Hollow Echo
by Crystal Mew
Summary: It's probably been done, but this is my take on it. There is something wrong with GIR, and it goes way beyond his usual glitches. Zim has to deal with the results.


Crystal: Whee, fanfic! Hehe. Sorry this chapter is so short. I don't really know what I'm doing with this story yet, so I'm not particularily hitting on much of a plot in this chapter...Oh, well. I tried.

I don't own Invader Zim... Zim is owned by Jhonen Vasquez.

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White, shimmering light was tallied on the ground, the darkness enshrouding every lick of colour. Single beams of light darted out through the nightfall, narrowly escaping the stalking blackness to dance once more in their vibrant hues. Silence staticly tingled through the cavern-like house, screaming quiet pleas to be shattered once again.

The room was completely devoid of sound, save for an echoing metallic tinkling who's clanks resounded back from the room's walls. The very house gave off the eerie essence of a bloodlonging, decorated with deep red colour that attracted attention away from the dancing metallic sparks. The flashing sparkles of faint light lept up from the hunk of shining metal, briefly lighting up the surroundings before dissolving once again into darkness.

A tiny squeak shattered the silence, the door opening slowly with it's rusted hinges squealing in protest. A pair of glowing blue circles peeked through the doorway with a child-like attentiveness. The glowing, bulbous lenses leapt through the doorframe, entering the darkness suspisiously. They narrowed breifly, squinting as they tried to make sense out of the depressing dark.

Seemingly undettered by the crippling darkness, the lenses, along with the creature attached to them crept further into the room. A metallic 'clink, clink, clink' followed -- metal thumping against metal as the flickering contraption progressed across the floor.

"Whyyy is it so daark?" a high-pitched, piercing whine emmitted from the tiny creature. Across the room, the sparks stopped flying. A heavy, thick 'thump' sounded as the welding tool fell against the workbench. The robot whimpered quietly, shivering suddenly in fear. It had not expected the creature in front of it to stop; just reply.

A painful silence scratched at the robot's sensors, and even a supposed lack of human emotion couldn't suppress the anxiety it seemed to drown in. It took a step backwards, stumbling over it's own feet. The creature ahead of it was glaring, focusing intently on its target. If only there was more light... Wait! A sudden thought struck the robot, and it speedily withdrew a flashlight from it's head compartment, flicking on the glowing beam.

"EEE!" it screamed, recoiling in horror. A seemingly massive green-skinned creature stood before him, it's shadow looming in gigantic proportions against the blood-red wall. It's pinkish eyes glazed a ruby red as they shimmered in the blinding light.

An apocolyptic nightmare stood before him, zipper-like teeth bared and gnashing hungrily. A firy hatred burned through the tinted eyes of the creature, an emotion so powerful the robot feared it would somehow swallow it whole. The creature gave a loud snarl, hissing loudly. Vibrant, echoing cries of anguish like the screams of a tortured animal ripped at the robot's ears. Deafening, screeching howls.

"GIR!" hollered the creature. The robot blinked again, this time less fearfully. The thing in front of it had called it's name; anything that called it's name had to be something familiar, and therefore, not scary. Right? The creature in front of him was made clearer as the mechanized lenses of the robot slowly revealed more detail. The green-skinned creature was wearing a pinkish outfit, face and strawberry eyes shielded behind a large glass-plated mask, not unlike something to be used for welding. The voice, albait rough and somewhat resentful, was familiar.

"M...Master?" wondered the robot, lowering the flashlight. The shadow stretching out from behind the alien being grew smaller, less imposing. Angrily, the emerald-skinned nightmare snarled again.

"GIR! How many times must I tell you not to come down here while I'm working!" GIR the robot backed away slightly, looking blank. The creature was it's Master, Zim. Not so scary, he supposed. Wait, had his Master not just asked him a question? He was supposed to answer any questions his Master had for him, wasn't he?

"Seven?" the little robot tried.

The alien creature hissed under his breath. "Stupid junk metal...get out!"

GIR whimpered, grabbing his flashlight and rushing towards the door. In his absence, the emerald-skinned being shook his head slowly from side to side. "Idiotic GIR...always ruining my plans...why can't he help me like the other S.I.R.s help the other invaders? He's supposed to be helping me conquor the earth, but all he cares about is the stupid television." the short monstrosity sighed heavily, brushing one of his long, whip-like antenna out of his eyes. "Something has to be done about him, or I will never succeed in my plans! And my plans cannot fail! The Tallest are counting on me, Zim!"

From outside the heavy metal door to the lab, the minute robot listened in on his master's rant, feeling something along the lines of self-pity. He knew, somewhere deep within him, that something wasn't quite right about him.

After all, his Master seemed tobe upset with him. His Master was usually upset with him all the time. He would often yell at him for something he had done "wrong", but GIR never knew quite what was the matter. Perhaps there was something very wrong with him...

But who cared about that? Leaping to his feet, the robot shreiked a giddy cry, running into the kitchen. "I'm gonna make tacos!" he cried, giggling insanely. Everything else that had transpired had already dissolved into the darkness of his mechanized -- faulty -- memory bank.

"Taco, taco, taco..." the silver robot droned, pulling everything he could carry in his stubby arms out of the refridgerator. "Hmm," he pawed through it's contents with a pincer-looking hand. "Let's see, I need...mustard...ketchup...pickles...ooh, cheese! Some chicken...onion... Yay!" with an armful of condiments, GIR tossed the bottles absentmindedly onto the kitchen table. Some of the glass bottles cracked loudly. The robot paused, blinking suspisiously as he came across a foregn object. It contained some kind of wrinkly, bumpy Earth food in a watery juice.

What was it called? "Dill pickles" read the label. GIR pronounced it quietly to himself, forming the squiggles of line into letters, then words. Watching a lot of Earth television had helped him to know how to read the human's language. He didn't know what a pickle was, but that didn't really matter, did it? He lifted it off of the table, swirling it's contents around proudly. The pickles made a swishing sound in protest. Snickering at the strange new sound, GIR began to dance happily with the jar of pickles, swishing it as loud as he could.

"Swishy, swishy, swiii-ii-iiish!" His robotic lenses were turned upward, a huge grin on his face.

A little ways away, the door to Zim's lab whooshed open, the said tiny alien poking his head out into the brightly lit hallway in responce to the loud noices he had heard. "GIR, what--" he began.

"Swishy! Swishy swishy!" cried GIR, shaking the jar of pickles at his Master. Zim lifted an eyebrow, or lackthereof, glaring remorcfully at his robot companion.

"You are an idiot," he scoffed abruptly, turning away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get some more glue for my experiment."

"More doom?"

Well, one thing Zim had to give GIR credit for was his interest in doom -- probably the only thing the pair had in common. Zim wanted to unleash doom upon the earth and all it's inhabitents, and...GIR liked to say it. GIR had probably never really understood what the word meant, but still...

"Yes, GIR. With this glue, I shall create the ultamite in robotic engineering technology, and use my new robot to unleash doom upon Dib's gigantic head! Mwahaha!" the alien cackled, reaching for the bottle of wood glue he always kept on the counter near the table. Stopping suddenly, he stared out at the very messy kitchen, full of half-broken jars and unidentifiable Earth foods. "What...happened...here?" Zim wondered, his left eye twiching. His pinkish eyes followed a trail of onion juice slowly dripping off of the edge of the table.

"Mmm? Oh, that. I'm makin' tacos!" GIR exclaimed, eagerly awaiting praise for his efforts. Zim turned away and ventured back to the kitchen toilet, his fast portal back down to his lab. He prefered not to answer the comment. GIR's face appeared slightly crestfallen as the green alien reached for the flushing lever, and for a split second, Zim considered staying behind to help the robot clean up the mess he had made. However, the little alien quickly pushed the offending thoughts out of his head. GIR turned back to work on his tacos.

"I keep forgetting," Zim scoffed to himself, shaking his head as he returned back on his way to his laboratory, "that GIR is just a robot. He doesn't have feelings. He can't. Why would he care what I do? He is the slave around here, after all. He's supposed to help me. Too bad he doesn't actually help me very often."

The elevator attached to the toilet finally stopped at his workstation, and the alien quickly resumed his task. He had to create the ultimate robot -- one that could easily destroy his arch-enemy Dib and his massive head. Zim snicked to himself under his breath, a scornful sneer curling at his lips. Yes, the large-headed antagonist in his life would soon be destroyed.

"The Dib will regret the very day he crossed paths with me, ZIM!" proclamed the martian to no one in particular, cackling insanely. Not even a second thought was given to his robot partner upstairs.

GIR batted a pickle around on the floor aimlessly, endlessly amused by the uneven, awkward rolling motion it made. Still, some doubts lingered at the back of his robotic brain. Doubts that were too minusecule to be considered actual thoughts. But still, why hadn't Zim liked his attempt at cooking?

"I thought I did good..." mused GIR, perplexed. "Oh, well. Maybe he'd like the tacos better if they had bacon in them. Master likes bacon." GIR giggled as he reflected on the bacon soap he had made once. Zim liked to scream, and the bacon soap made him scream, so he must have liked it! The metal contraption gave another high-pitched giggle, realizing that the new task at hand was to get rid of the mess the would-be tacos had made and create some more bacon soap for his best friend.

The glass jars made an almost musical tinkling sound as the robot dumped the mess into the refridgerator, back where it belonged. Looking bemused, GIR studied his work thoughtfully. All the jars were back in the icy fridge, except for the pickle jar. Giving it one final swirl, the robot placed it back into the fridge, shutting the door.

Sniffling, he whimpered, "I...I'll miss you, pickle jar. We had fun together." falling down on his knees and squealing at the top of his lungs seemed appropriet for the moment, so GIR dove down towards the floor, pounding with his fists. "I loved-ed you!" his voice warped slightly, distorted by both the tears and the strange glitches running rampant in his system.

From down in his lab, Zim glared up at the ceiling. GIR was screaming again. The wires hanging overhead shook with the pounding of his fists upstairs.

"I swear, I don't know where he gets it from," muttered the alien creature, lowering his head. However, he knew that he had been stuck with GIR for a robotic slave, and it was easier to have him around than to not have him at all. "One day I'll have to repair those stupid malfuntions, though," he growled, turing back to building his destructive robot.

Commendearing his thoughts onto the task at hand, he lifted up the blueprints, looking them over with a careful eye. "Yes, this new robot will be perfect for getting rid of the Dib-monkey," Zim laughed, grinning evilly. He rubbed his clawed hands togther in strong anticipation, "and finally, with the only person on this planet that stands in my way, I can finally take over this clump of dirt for the Irken empire!" he reached out for his tools. "Hmm? What's this? The wrench is missing!" he glared at the toolbox. "Pathetic human wrench! I will conquer you as well! GIR!" he hollered, directing his cries up at the ceiling. There was no reply. "GIR! Get down here! I need you! And bring me the wrench!" tapping his foot angrily, Zim tried once again. "GIR! Get down here now!" there was still no answer. "GIR, I asked you for something! I am your Master! Obey me!" Hopping into the elevator, Zim poked his head out of the toliet bowl, looking annoyed. "Alright now, GIR, I asked--"

The alien creature recoiled as he jumped off of the bowl, gasping slightly. "GIR?"

The robot lay there in front of the refridgerator in a crumpled heap. His normally vivid and bright blue eyes had been reduced to a pale pastel blue and were still fading. Zim, looking more annoyed than fearful, kicked at his companion. The robot's eyes flicked back to normal, the tiny metal creation sitting upright. He looked over at his Master, Zim, grinning wildly.

"Hi!"

Zim shook his head once again, discouraged. "Must be another short. GIR, have you seen the wrench?" he recieved a mumbed "I dunno" from said robot. Muttering under his breath, Zim paced around the kitchen, searching for the hidden object. He finally discovered it, mixed up in the contents of the refridgerator and tenderizing in some form of juice in a cup.

Something had to be done about that robot.

And it had to be done soon.

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Crystal: Ahh, why are my first chapters so...short? Anyway, I have no idea where this is going...next chapter will be up whenever...um...reviews make me work harder! nn;; This idea has been done before, I think, but this was written before I started really reading some of the fanfiction on here, so I posted it anyway because this came from my own mind. (dances madly and runs off) ... (runs back) Oh, and by "next chapter will be up whenever", I mean it could be up tomorrow or it could be up next year...just a warning.


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